#if you read it all thank you for reading

[dragonpigeons]

Hey guys, I wrote two accounts of my time in hospital and after for anyone interested. The first is posted here. The second I will post separately.

Update: Link to Part 2 is here.

---------------

Account I.

Hospital & After: The Physical & Medical Aspects of My Recovery

CW: bodily fluids, blood, needles, minor injuries.

》 Written with Twitter format in mind, edited for Tumblr.

i.

My family and I, we lived a normal existence. My mother was healthy. My father enjoyed a laid-back life but was otherwise healthy. My brother had lactose intolerance but was otherwise fit and healthy.

I had lived a normal life for the past three decades. I was regarded as fit and healthy. I liked to be active. I went for walks often. I ate a balanced diet. I got over illnesses normally. I had no allergies.

The symptoms began 2-3 years ago. More worries started to accumulate. There were more things to consider, more to do, and more to take responsibility for. And, damningly, what seemed like less time to have to deal with them all.

Everything was piling up in me physically. My body was hoarding all the things I wasn't facing and running away from. My body began to suffer under the weight of it all.

My body was slowly dying.

In May ‘24, my ankles started swelling. It built up quickly over the month and reached up my legs and hips. I finally went to my GP. She saw how serious it was via blood & urine tests. My results were off the charts. I was sent to the hospital right away.

At the hospital, they saw my blood count dropping. I had to have a blood transfusion. It helped my bloods somewhat, but I was still building up fluid and wasn't passing much urine. There was still something wrong with my body. I was still unwell.

They did more blood tests and found an antibody reading, which was also off the charts. The doctors told me I had SLE lupus nephritis. My own body was attacking my kidneys, which meant I couldn't pass urine and get rid of the fluid retention.

ii.

I was given a number of injections and IVs over the next few days. A boost to my low WBCs and neutrophils, prophylactic antibiotics, insulin to lower my potassium level, glucose to keep my blood sugars up, steroids to stabilise the lupus and stop the levels from rising higher.

Soon after, they put me on daily steroids in tablet form, along with a bunch of other pills - antibiotics, antifungal, antirheumatic, minerals, diuretics. They seemed to help keep my body stabilised. Though I did start getting side effects and symptoms.

I had insomnia and woke up often in the night. I also began having strange dreams. They felt like everything was submerged underwater. I couldn't understand what people were saying or doing. Also, my bowels were acting up, and I had to go to the toilet often.

All the while, my swelling continued to increase. I had to wait a few days to be transferred to another hospital. It became more difficult to stand and walk day by day. It was like moving with a bunch of clay wrapped around my feet and legs.

The only people I ended up talking to on a daily basis were my mother, who came to visit me every day with home cooked meals, and my brother via DMs. Everything just got too much, too fast. I had to make a lot of life-critical decisions in a short span of time.

Despite all that, I did find myself with time to think. I found myself thinking how crazy it was that my own body would choose to attack itself. I also found myself accepting that it did and what it meant.

Lupus was here to stay. Lupus would be my companion for life.

iii.

In the meantime, my kidney function dropped to 10%. I had a kidney biopsy done. The results were on the lighter side. There was no scarring but a lot of inflammation. The glomeruli were damaged quite severely, but they would be able to recover. My kidneys could heal.

Something interesting happened during all of this mayhem. I had small swollen lymph nodes for the past two years, which finally went away after the first antibiotic and steroid IVs. It was like the trash had been taken out. I felt I could think clearly for the first time in years.

One of the things I realised was that for nearly all my life, I had been caught up in the most trivial of things. Am I being ignored? Did I do something wrong? Do people even like my art? Does anyone actually like me?

I had used my energy on the wrong things. I came to realise, within the four white walls of my minimally-furnished ward room with a crappy plastic bed to sleep on, the more important things in life. Family. Friends. Community. Network.

The doctors proceeded to the next phase of my treatment. Though lupus had been stabilised by the steroids, my immune system needed to be suppressed in order to lower the levels.

Cyclophosphamide is a chemotherapy drug and, at standard doses, is the standard used to treat lupus patients. They explained the procedure and the risks. The first main risk was hemorrhagic cystitis. The second was infertility.

Since I didn't want children, it was a simpler decision for me to make. I had my first dose of the drug the next day. I didn't feel anything. The doctors told me it would kick in after 7-10 days.

Throughout the days, they continued to poke me like a pin cushion, checking my daily blood levels. My arms and hands were covered in bruises by the end. Some nurses were better than others. One had a shaky hand. I bled and bruised with them the most.

On my last day, the trend in my blood results showed improvement. My kidney function went from 10 to 14%. I was discharged that afternoon and waited for my meds. I chatted with an elderly man. I had chocolate biscuits. I was content.

iv.

My father picked me up and drove me back home. I took my first step out of the hospital after two weeks. Though it was summer, the weather greeted me with a cool, cloudy ambience. I opened my arms and welcomed it. I breathed in the fresh air. I smiled.

I was happy to be back in a comfortable bed and in the company of my family again. The environment was much better, more peaceful. I wasn't disturbed at odd hours of the night by nurses checking my vitals or giving me meds to eat.

My troubles weren't exactly over yet. I continued to have heart palpitations, and my swelling continued to increase over the next two days. I got worried that I would no longer be able to move. I feared I would have to be bed bound.

On the third day of being home, I finally felt myself getting lighter. I was passing more urine and going to the toilet more often. I gained 20kg+ since the start of the swelling. I went from 70+ down to 67 by day five.

On day six, things hit me like a truck. The chemotherapy drug had kicked in. My heart palpitations were hard and numerous. I grew exhausted. Even getting up to go to the toilet took so much out of me. I was down for the count for the following days.

I had to think about how to spend my energy each day. I prioritised eating, resting and going to the toilet. If I had an appointment, I'd try to prepare the day before. There were periods where I'd have more energy, and I'd make use of those.

Eventually, it did get easier as I learned how to manage my symptoms. Eat well, but don't overeat to reduce my palpitations. Eat fibre to keep the bowels moving. Drink fluids to keep hydrated. Rest often to conserve my energy.

v.

Since then, I've been getting better as the days go. It's been a rough and bumpy ride throughout. My symptoms and needs seem to change by the day. I have to adjust through trial and error.

Sometimes I get it wrong. Sometimes I get it right. Often, there's conflicting info on the Web. I have to take it all with a grain of salt (which is almost literally all I can have with my kidney injury) and find what works for me. I've learnt a lot. There's still more to learn.

Every day brings something new. I still get scared when something unwanted or unexpected happens. I still panic and rush to resolve the problem as if a meteor is about to hit the planet. I'm learning to just stop and do nothing. Calm myself. Observe.

I'm a high-strung person who tends to jump to the worst conclusions. I believe that with enough discipline and focus, I can change this for the better. It will take patience. It will take time. Something I thought I didn't have enough of. Now I know that I do.

There is time for everything. I just have to make it by cutting out the unnecessary and focusing on what truly matters.

Before, I squandered my time and energy. Now, I will spend them wisely as I recover and return to a new normality.

---

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[kilgarraara]

"I guess I never really faced my fears before"

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[noodles-and-tea]

Last part whoo!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

[sonykatzen]

pretty boy

[andstuffsketches]

girl who lives in a cave

[bluegiragi]

left on read.

--

last year i finally read "all that's said in the low light" by headlocket which i feel like has developed its own reputation by now, but just in case you don't know - it's kind of known in the fandom as a massive tearjerker. As promised, I cried buckets over it and it left an enormous impact on me.

I drew this comic (after getting permission from headlocket) as a what if on a situation in chapter 12, where Simon goes through a period of radio silence from Johnny after essentially giving him his blessing to date other people, the utter clown. We only see it from Johnny's side, who is really going through it, but the mental image of Simon staring at a slew of his own unread messages really stuck with me...did he think this was it? That that shitshow of a conversation he had with Johnny might've been the last they ever had? What if Johnny just never responded to him again? Did he regret giving him permission?

bonus - simon's forlorn and temporarily one-sided conversation:

[stageturn]

(slides u a jon) got time for a draw this in your style?

use #stageturnDTIYS to participate :D

HAVE FUN!!!!! (closeups under the cut :3)

and here's the actual doodle of s1 Jon

[kuni-kuun]

and another mundane day

[aethersea]

the question of fic comments is very straightforward actually. readers do not owe writers comments. writers do not owe readers fic. there is no bargain, no transaction, no debt.

fic is a gift. comments are a gift. gifts are exchanged between friends, out of love, not out of obligation.

I write for myself. I post it for others, as a gift, because their joy brings me joy. I read for myself. I comment for the author, as a gift, because their joy brings me joy. perhaps we were not friends before, but we are now, however fleetingly, because we have given each other gifts out of love.

[clarisse-doodles]

inspired by this post, in which Damian does not know what Vine is

[atissi]

cupids...ATTACK

[howsublime]

Excited to share my first linocut, based on the three meme kittens that I love.

[nicktoonsunite]

misc NU doodles part tres

last comic is based off off my nasb 2 clip

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who is this sassy lost child?

[First] Prev <–-> Next